Beyond the Prophecy
by Ek-Asli-Zehn
Summary: With the prophecy fulfilled, Cronus sets out to write his own destiny. His first stop? Taking care of that pesky Oracle. Then it's off to conquer the world...  -Set post Phantom Rising-  JT AA


**Beyond the Prophecy**

_**Author's Note: **_I'm excited to start this story and get back into writing fanfiction after my long hiatus. I apologize for not finishing off any previous stories, but any notes and/or chapters I'd written were lost when my old laptop died. I still have a few of my hard-copy notes but I doubt if I'll go back and dig up those skeletons, sorry to those who were enjoying them. I hope you enjoy this new story of mine (which I have every intention of finishing, sans hiatus).

_**Summary:**_ With the prophecy fulfilled, Cronus sets out to write his own destiny. His first stop? Taking care of that pesky Oracle. Then it's off to conquer the world... [Set post Phantom Rising]

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Greetings to Hades<strong>

It had been weeks since Cronus had been defeated by Theresa as she'd gone on her rampage against god-kind. And for those glorious, wonderful weeks, Cronus had delighted in his victory. True, he _had_ been defeated, but he had _survived_! That damned prophecy had been fulfilled and he was free of the scythe that had hung so precariously over his head for too long.

He would admit, even if only to himself in the darkest hours of the morning, that the Oracle was a crafty man. He had foretold of Cronus' defeat by seven heroes, had laughed at Cronus' confidence in his ability to persevere over seven puny mortals, but he had never said what would become of the Time God's fate after his defeat. Prison? Death? Turned mortal and forced to live a hideous life among those dribbling idiots? No! His fate was his own to command now.

In the aftermath of his "defeat", Cronus had gone underground. Way underground. He had refurbished an abandoned mine shaft to suit his taste and purposes while he planned how to spend his delicious freedom. Of course, he would see to it that he crushed those bothersome heroes, but it wasn't nearly enough. His freedom from the prophecy demanded something much more! And so he sat and stood, and paced while he thought it over carefully.

Footsteps echoed through his spacious lair, disappearing into the dark depths of earth above him. Firelight from torches cast his pacing shadow long across the slate floor and up the dirt wall. His shadow double looked just as deep in thought as he, and just as eager to cause some chaos.

"But what?" Cronus wondered aloud, stopping and staring down into the pool of swirling water that he'd recessed into the floor of his latest haven. One finger tapped at his sturdy chin while his other fingers rubbed at his jawline. To be the God of Time meant he had all the time in the world, and yet he didn't want to waste a single moment of it. Still, he stayed his hand and practiced, however begrudgingly, patience. His reflection offered no suggestion, staring intently back at him as though daring him to come up with something dastardly.

He returned to his pacing, finding no help in the murky depths of the pool, and continued until the torches burned low, casting shadows long and longer. His own had devoured the far wall and threatened to conquer those to his sides, growing more sinister as the light dimmed to a bare glow.

As the torchlight flickered it's last breath of life, glinting maliciously off Cronus' red eyes, a grin cracked his face. "I think it's about time for winter..." He murmured, a noxious glee in his voice. The light snuffed out, their light caught a moment longer in his piercing eyes while he chuckled, "A long... cruel winter."

The autumn air was cool, blowing about the brittle leaves who had abandoned their trees in the looming leer of winter, already riding the winds. Throughout the streets of New Olympia people were dressed in warmer coats, donning hats and scarves to ward off this early chill; silently praying for the snow to keep away until Christmas. But oh, what disappointment they would suffer, when snow rained down from the sky without stopping. The thought was enough to pull a grin from Cronus as he navigated the streets of the mortals.

"I see you're up to no good again, Cronus. That smirk on your face is enough to scare Old Man Winter back into hiding until next winter." Sitting at his stand with his dark sunglasses in place, the Oracle looked up from the paper he held in hand to frown at the God of Time.

"Ah, Oracle, how _have_ you been?" Voice like smooth poison, Cronus stopped beside the old man, folding his hands behind his back. Though he addressed the Oracle, his eyes cast about them, ever alert.

"I was enjoying a peaceful afternoon until you showed up." The Oracle answered with a grunt. He folded his paper up and set it on the stand by his side. "What do you want?"

Cronus paced away, walking with casual familiarity about the Oracle's stand and taking a curious glance at it's contents; magazines and papers all broadcasting the latest scandal and news of the city._ What a waste of energy._ He thought with a roll of his eyes. He would never understand why mortals insisted on wasting their time on such trivial things.

"I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop in... You're not taking requests for the future, are you?" A sly grin slipped across Cronus' face as he looked back to the old man.

Brows draw in, the Oracle frowned. What was Cronus' game? "You know as well as I do, that I don't write the future. I merely predict what will come." There was a sinister edge to the air, a doom brought on the winds that settled deep into his bones. It was a life-sucking feeling as grey as the clouds that hovered above. Dread crept over the Oracle. He knew the future in it's many paths, and knew it well, but now he saw nothing. Something in his chest tightened as an eek of fear clung to his bones. A haggard, harsh whisper racked out of body, "_What do you want?_"

"My dear, old friend, what I want is simple..." The grin was contorted maliciously as several shadows pulled away from the alley, the stand and even from the shadows of the two men. He delighted in the way the Oracle struggled to understand what was happening. ".. Please give my regards to my son, Hades." He turned with a wave over his shoulder and walked away as the shadows attacked; the Oracle's cry cutting short.

Torchlight cast a warm glow over the dirt walls and slate floor, their light not quite enough to penetrate the sinister depths of the high ceilings. Cronus pulled a heavy golden pendant from about his neck and held it out before him, letting it's delicate chain slip through his fingers.

A gloved hand promptly caught it, fingers curling about the grey jewel set on the face of the pendant. "We had a deal, Cronus." The gloved man leveled the God of Time with a steady stare from under dark lashes and over-hanging bangs. He stood a few inches shorter than the God, but had confidence enough in his own abilities to speak with such an impatient tone.

"And I shall honour it, Dolos, in time." Cronus replied to the spirit of treachery and trickery. "That pendant of yours was quite helpful in fooling the Oracle. Tricking him into seeing a different future. Where _did_ you find such a trinket?"

Dolos grimaced- he wasn't particularly patient but he knew he would have to wait for his payment. And what a beautiful bride his Chione would be, once Cronus delivered her. He hated to sink to the level of bartering deals with Cronus to be with the goddess he'd admired from afar for so many centuries, but he'd exhausted all other roads. Despite his craftiest crafts and trickiest tricks, the lovely goddess remained immune to his advances.

"This _trinket_, as you call it, Cronus, was crafted by Hephaestus. A little slight of hand and I'd convinced him that it was in the interest of Zeus. It's designed to fool anyone the wearer seeks to trick." Pride made Dolos smile at the admission. Not everyone could say that they'd fooled the God of Fire and Smithing and lived to gloat about it.

"Trinket indeed," The God of Time muttered to himself. He despised the work of that hotheaded craftsman. Clearing his throat, he made to stride away, indicating Dolos had overstayed his welcome. "Do send my thanks to the Phonoi as well. I trust their payment was enough to sate their needs." It wasn't really a question, and Cronus didn't care about the answer; so long as they didn't come back and bother him later on- he had more plans to set in motion. All the same, he heard Dolos' fading answer as the spirit left him,

"Their payment was more than enough to sate them..."

Without the Oracle to clue the Gods or the heroes in on his plans, Cronus could act without worry of having them ride in on their annoying white horses and foil his plans. Again. He would admit though, that he took private pleasure in the demise of the Oracle- the old man had caused him more than enough trouble with that prophecy. He could have at least let Cronus know that his defeat didn't mean his death or imprisonment, so that he wasn't left to look over his shoulder at every corner for signs of those despicable heroes. And by the time he got anywhere close to Hades to let that old windbag know what was happening, Cronus' plans would be in full swing and there would be no stopping them.

He ambled through the different mine drifts, following the line of torches held to the wall. Their soft light danced gleefully as he passed by, as though the flames were bouncing with excitement as the God of Time was threatening to do. Things would fall into place this time. With the prophecy done and the Oracle gone, nothing would stop him. And he had just the guests to help him with that.

Cronus stopped when the torches did, standing at the edge of their light. Here, they were dimmer, casting longer shadows and longer despair. The light reflected dully off of metal bars just beyond their reach; dancing and bouncing in time with the scuffling sounds beyond the bars.

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" Cronus' voice smiled, anticipating the answer.

A sigh echoed from the darkness past the bars, a soft breeze dampening the torchlight. "I don't supposed I have any choice, do I?" The voice was gruff and gritty. It matched the man's appearance though, as he leaned his bulk against the prison bars, grimy face catching just enough light to be seen. A scraggly beard hung onto his chest, greying as his hair was. Rudy cheeks and nose were covered in dust and dirt from his cell, and some of his protruding belly had shrunk since Cronus had kidnapped him some days- or weeks, for all he knew down here- ago. "If I... if I cooperate, you'll let her go, right?" He was resigned to his fate to be but a toy in the Titan's game.

"I'm a man of my word, Boreas." Cronus assured in an oily tone slick enough that it could have slid the plump Winter God from his prison. "If you help me with my plans, then I'll release your dear daughter, Chione, unharmed."

Another sigh from Boreas and the torches went dark, hiding Cronus' grin. He hung his head ruefully and closed his eyes on the darkness, "I'll help you."

"Good." There was no mistaking the pleased smile Cronus wore, even in the pitch. "Now, do try to get some sleep down here. Tomorrow is a big day." He turned to leave the grubby god to his thoughts in this dirt hole, voice echoing behind him, "Tomorrow we bring back the good old Ice Age."

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><p><em><strong>Character Key: <strong>_

_Dolos_- the spirit of trickery, cunning deception, craftiness, treachery and guile.

the _Phonoi_- spirits of murder, killing and slaughter

_Chione_- Goddess of snow; daughter of Boreas

_Boreas_- God of the North Wind/ God of Winter; father of Chione


End file.
